"Tick, tock. Tick, tock."
"Yeah, we know." Johanna Mason scoffs at the woman from Three who's wandering in hopeless circles muttering the phrase. "Tick, tock. Nuts is in shock."
Nuts? Is that her nickname? She does look a little crazy. At the sound of Johanna's voice, her feet stumble over each other in that direction.
"Just stay down, will you?" Johanna looks disgusted as she shoves the victor to the ground.
Katniss seems bothered by her treatment of - Wiring? Wiresis? "Lay off her!"
That only earns her a slap to the face, which looks like it hurts. There's the red outline of Johanna's hand imprinted on Katniss's cheek.
"Holy crap, that looks painful," my wife says.
"I don't think Johanna likes contradiction. She sort of strikes me as -" I pause. There's a strange sound coming from the screen. It sounds like… crunching. Maybe boots rhythmically pounding on gravel. And then it hits me. That's not coming from the screen.
"Honestly, District Seven needs to - well, what's gotten into you?"
Because now I've gotten up and pulled the curtain aside just barely so that I can peek out. Peacekeepers. A formation of about six of them are marching up to one of the houses just down the way. They rap on the door and a shutter flaps. The door is opened promptly afterwards. When the Peacekeepers show up at your door, you open it as fast as you possibly can.
Even from a distance, I can see that the woman who greets them is scared. Instantly, I'm reminded of my own recent encounter with the white-uniforms when they came looking for Peeta to question him about Katniss.
"What is it?" my wife asks again, coming to join me at the open window.
"Stay back," I tell her, pulling the curtain almost completely over the window so that we aren't so obvious. Only a small strip is left for us to peer out.
I missed what the Peacekeepers said, but the words evoke a cry of pain from the woman that echoes through the street and the square.
"Please, sir," she shrieks. "He had nothing to do with it, I swear! He wasn't even on their shift!"
"Ma'am," the Peacekeeper's voices rise and now it's all too easy to understand their words.
"Please, you have to believe me! He'd never do something like that!"
"Perhaps he didn't know the consequences for arming a group of civilians and inciting rebellious actions!"
"He did," the woman is sobbing. "He knows, he knows!"
"His shift blatantly defied orders and attempted to turn on the Peacekeepers watching their unit. It didn't work, the poor attempt was highly detrimental to the day's quota, and did nothing more than make them traitors to the country." One of the Peacekeepers raises his gun to a slightly more threatening position.
"I already told you, he wasn't on that shift!" the woman insists. "He went in late today so that he could help me take care of our cat's new litter of kittens."
"Where's the evidence? Where're the witnesses? He's in custody until he can be proven innocent. You and the rest of your family will be brought in for questioning. Please gather your household and come with us."
Two small children poke their heads around their mother's skirt. "Cypress, Aster," the woman says. "Tell them that your brother went to work late today."
The children stare up at the Peacekeepers, bewildered.
"Where's Blaze?" the little girl asks.
"Honey, his mine shift did a bad thing today." There's a note of controlled hysteria in her mother's voice now. "But he wasn't there. Tell them, honey. Blaze was home with us."
"Where's my brother?" the little girl asks the Peacekeepers.
"Answer the question," one of them barks. "Was your brother home today?"
A cat, clearly well-loved, saunters out onto the steps, past the Peacekeepers, and into the street. No kittens follow her, though. In fact, that's a male. The Peacekeepers all exchange glances, pointing at the cat, working it out for themselves.
The boy - Cypress - darts out after the animal before anyone can stop him, causing his mother to screech. "Cypress, Cypress, no! Come here!"
Cypress makes a move to scoop up the cat, but it evades him neatly. Now it's the woman's turn to push past the Peacekeepers. She's in the street now, begging and trying to drag her son back inside. "Darling, come. They need us to answer some questions. Leave the cat alone. It'll be okay."
"Ma'am!" One of the Peacekeepers fully raises her gun. "Ma'am, you're in our custody until we say you're free to go. If you won't come willingly, we'll have to use force."
"Let me just take care of the cat, then we will come with you, I promise!" she pleads, still gripping young Cypress's arm.
In one swift motion, a Peacekeeper raises his gun and shoots a bullet through the cat's head. The shot rattles the square. "There," he grunts. "Taken care of. Now come with us."
The children both begin to scream, but the woman has no choice but to drag them forward. The Peacekeepers surround the family and begin to march them towards the Justice Building. Little Cypress and Aster's cries bounce of the walls of the houses and shops, shooting through veins and turning my blood to ice. My eyes catch the movements of shutters and curtains in the houses across the way and I know people have seen the whole thing. Or heard it. The whole ordeal probably took eight minutes tops.
The Peacekeepers. The woman's insistence that her son is innocent. The children. The cat. The terrified faces of the family are still vividly replaying in brain long after the Justice Building doors slam.
Arming civilians and inciting rebellion.
I thought the crackdown had silenced any rebellious voices. Surely the gruesome punishments would deter any possible rebels, any stirrings of uprising. But look at my wife. The Peacekeepers have subdued her, but not squashed her thoughts. Those never go away - never have, never will. I guess there's still a few people in the mines who feel the same way. And looking at the still twitching body of the mottled cat lying in the road, I can't blame them.
My wife's face is set in grim lines of hatred. She doesn't need words for me to know what she's thinking. The parallels of her own older brother and the way he was taken into the Justice Building. The only difference is that she didn't have a mother to try and keep her safe.
This harsh reminder of the bleak world we live in makes the the Quell that much more harrowing. We get it. No rebellion. No talk. Just act the like machines for the Capitol that we are. Produce coal. That's our one job. It's not like we can even set foot outside our houses anymore without getting eyed by the white-clad authorities. To them, everyone is a possible perpetrator. Everyone is capable of spreading the unrest. There's a general atmosphere of fragile control that could burst with just one toe out of line.
I try to settle back into the Quell, to think of something other than the rebellion. Our tiny world is both expanding and crashing down at the same time. In the arena, everyone except Katniss and Johanna are asleep. I think maybe they've worked out whatever's between them, but it's no good.
"How'd you lose Mags?" Johanna asks. It might just be me, but she sounds slightly accusing. Like she thinks it's Katniss's fault.
"In the fog," Katniss replies stiffly, staring out to sea. "Finnick had Peeta. I had Mags for awhile. Then, I couldn't lift her. Finnick said he couldn't take them both. She kissed him and walked right into the poison."
"She was Finnick's mentor, you know." Yes, she's definitely implicating that it was Katniss's fault.
"No, I didn't."
"She was half his family."
There's a tense silence as both girls follow the waves with their eyes.
"So what were you doing with Nuts and Volts?" Katniss asks finally.
"I told you - I got them for you. Haymitch said if we were to be allies I had to bring them to you. That's what you told him, right?"
Oh. I guess this alliance had been set up from the beginning. There aren't three main alliances - just two. They haven't merged, they've reunited. It makes me feel a little better to know that this was planned. For some reason, it seems like they're in control - not the Gamemakers. It's a foolish illusion, I know, but still.
"Thanks," Katniss says grudgingly. "I appreciate it."
"I hope so." Well, isn't she just a ray of sunshine.
"And it looks like Wiress has risen," Caesar Flickerman says. "Let's see how Johanna handles this tribute who she's threatened to kill multiple times in the past few trying hours."
"Tick, tock," Wiress (that's her name) murmurs.
"Oh, goody, she's back." Johanna throws up her arms. "Okay, I'm going to sleep. You and Nuts can guard together." The Seven tribute flops down next to Finnick and immediately drifts off. She must have been more tired that she let on. How could she not be?
"Tick, tock."
Katniss eases the woman into a more comfortable position in front of her, soothing her with a gentle stroking. I bet she learned that from Peeta. Wiress continues to doggedly mutter her phrase.
"Tick, tock," Katniss repeats quietly. "It's time for bed. Tick, tock. Go to sleep."
Somewhere across the water, a lightning storm starts up. Just like it did last night.
Everything seems to be at peace for awhile. The victors sleep while Katniss watches, her hand patting Wiress and her brain a thousand miles away. Mine wanders back to the previous dark thoughts. Rebellion. Guns. Mindless killing. Empathy is one of the things I admire most about Peeta. The Peacekeepers, the Capitol, they lack it.
Tick, tock, rebel you must not.
"Tick, tock," Wiress echoes my thoughts in a whisper about an hour later.
For some reason, Katniss stops stroking the woman's arm. Slowly, she pushes the victor off of her and stands. Her eyes scan the arena for… what?
"Tick, tock," Wiress says again, stirring on the ground.
The lightning stops in one sector, triggering the blood rain in the next.
"Oh," Katniss breaths. "Tick, tock. Tick, tock. This is a clock."
"And there it is, folks!" Claudius booms. "The first tribute to understand the design of this arena! It is, indeed a clock!"
Oh. Oh. It all makes sense. The sectors. The pattern. I knew something was up. The way one Gamemaker horror didn't start until the other had finished. A clock.
As the understanding dawns, Katniss begins to rouse the others. "Get up," she says. "Get up - we have to move."
"Huh?" Finnick mumbles groggily. "Wha - what is it?"
"We have to move!" Katniss shakes Peeta. "Come on, Peeta, get up."
Everyone rubs their eyes and tries to get their bearings, trying to decipher Katniss's motives through their sleepy fog.
"What's going on?" Peeta asks. "Katniss?"
"This whole arena's set up like a clock," she says. "With a new threat every hour." As she launches into an explanation, the group begins to collect their possessions and ready themselves for a relocation.
"Tick, tock!" Wiress is awake again.
"Yes, tick, tock, the arena's a clock. It's a clock, Wiress, you were right. You were right." Katniss consoles the woman which seems to have an immediate effect.
Wiress is no longer as agitated. She seems almost relieved that someone had figured it out. "Midnight."
"It starts at midnight," Katniss agrees.
Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith are beside themselves with excitement.
"Well, if I'd had to bet on which group would figure it out first, my money would have been on this one. They're all so smart, so incredibly strong."
Oh, really? Because weren't you just criticizing Finnick for crying over Mags? As long as our victors are playing to the Capitol standards, they get plenty of praise. A game, it's all a game.
Katniss and Johanna are going at it again.
"I guess I must have been distracted by keeping your little friends alive. While you were … what, again? Getting Mags killed off?"
This ignites something in Katniss and she goes rigid, her hand tightening on her knife. I can see her fighting to remain neutral.
"Go ahead," Johanna taunts. "Try it. I don't care if you are knocked-up, I'll rip your throat out."
For a moment, I'm worried that she'll do just that, but luckily, Finnick steps in and breaks it up. "Maybe we all had better be careful where we step." He shoots Katniss a look, which is completely unfair.
Johanna's comment reminds me that Katniss is supposedly pregnant. It must also remind the announcers because they launch into a rant about the way she's been holding up and whether she's been different from the other Games. I tune them out because I've really had it with the announcers today.
The six victors in our alliance make their way to the Cornucopia, half carrying Beetee from Three and practically steering Wiress, but otherwise intact.
My son looks much better now with some rest and not nearly as muddled as he was after hitting the force field. He lays Beetee in the shade, then calls Wiress over to him.
"Hey." Peeta takes the coil of Wire that Beetee's hardly let out of his sight and gives it to Wiress. "Clean it, will you?"
Again, my son knows just how to make people feel important. Needed. Johanna detests Wiress and even though Katniss takes her under her wing, she still treats her like a child, but Peeta's given her a job. Something to do. You can see the happiness light up in the victor's eyes as she scurries to the water to carry out the request.
Wiress begins to sing in a lilting, jumpy voice. It's a very simple song, but she's nice and busy which pleases her immensely.
"Hickory Dickory Dock,
The mouse ran up the clock.
The clock struck one,
The mouse ran down!
Hickory Dickory Dock."
"Oh not the song again," Johanna sighs. "That went on for hours before she started tick-tocking."
"Hickory Dickory Dock,
The dog barked at the clock,
The clock struck three,
Fiddle-de-dee,
Hickory Dickory Dock!
Hickory Dickory Dock,
The bird looked at the clock,
The clock struck two -"
Abruptly, Wiress stops her song and stands straight up. "Two," she says, pointing to the beach from where they just came.
"Yes, look," Katniss says. "Wiress is right. It's two o'clock and the fog has started."
"Like clockwork," Peeta says. "You were very smart to figure that out, Wiress."
A strange emotion begins to form as I watch this group. There's no word for it, no way to describe it. All I know is that I don't want any of them to die. Last Games, I didn't care who had to be killed if my son came home, but this time … they're all friends! Finnick, Katniss, Peeta, Beetee, Wiress, and heck, even Johanna, they're in this together. Yet, at one point, they'll all have to turn. Fight each other. Kill each other. The thought is unbearable. This year, these victors all feel like they're from my district. There's no longer any "us and them". I want them all to live. But it's useless to wish this because there can only be one.
Peeta has scratched out a map of sorts on a smooth leaf. He's drawn it from an aerial view with all the wedges of the arena. The spokes jut out from the Cornucopia, where they are, and there are two circles, one representing the water and the other the tree line. With his artistically straight, perfect lines, the complicated arena suddenly looks simple. Easy to understand. And that's bad. The Gamemakers will not want the Games to become beatable or easy. It's only a matter of time before something happens to throw them off.
"Well, this group is certainly bright," Claudius remarks. "Look at how quickly they've grasped this concept. They knew how to get away from that sector where the fog was headed… we'll see how the Gamemakers compensate."
"Yes, if you look at Peeta's map, you can the depth of their understanding," Caesar agrees as the camera zooms in on my son's drawing. "It's really one of the things that we've said all along. This group is made up of strong victors and they are strongest together. They have come up with an explanation and it's really putting them ahead of the other tributes."
The camera suddenly moves to a tight shot of Wiress, who's still singing and intensely focused on rinsing that coil of wire.
"Hickory Dickory Dock,
The cat ran round the -"
The song stops and the camera moves in even tighter. Which means we get a perfect view of the knife that slits her throat.